And For Now, That's Enough
by Ugly Pink Machine
Summary: A random RaphaelxMichael oneshot, with a bit of limeish content. When the good doctor is finally confronted with temptation from his best friend, he finds a painful revelation and solace in Michael's actions.


We weren't in the room a single minute before Mika slammed the door shut and jumped on me.

His mouth was on mine before I could even hit the floor. Like a horny little monkey he straddled my hips where I lay and delved his tongue into my mouth, pressing himself hard against me, the fingers of his right hand entwined hard in my hair. It was at this moment, when he kissed me and made his wicked intentions known, that I began to realize there was going to be a lot more to this than there seemed to be.

When he pulled back, breathing hard, his red hair even more tousled than it usually was, it was to speak, his voice low and sultry through arousal and desire.

"Raphael, I want to fuck you," he said bluntly, looking down at me with those wide fiery eyes, and it's the kind of thing I can never really say no to, not from him.

"Then fuck me," I say, and I'm sounding a hell of a lot more nonchalant than I feel.

This is wrong, a part of me says, this is very wrong. He's your best friend.

He's like your brother.

But he kisses me again, and I start to remember how much I don't care. His lip ring is warm and smooth in his kiss, and it's kind of funny, because I'd always thought it'd be awkward and in the way. It isn't at all. His hand moves beneath my lab coat and into my shirt, and he's stripping me with one hand, which is actually pretty impressive, now that I think about it. As graceful as this is, I help him, and the both of us are naked in minutes.

This is strange.

It's something I've wanted, but now that I have it, I'm feeling hesitant. Morals have never been an issue when it comes to sex, not in my mind. I spiraled into perversion thousands upon thousands of years ago. Belial's touch converted me, and I haven't looked back since that one night with her when I became sin. But this is a different hesitation. I don't care that it's wrong, that me and Mika-chan are so close, I don't care that he's my best friend. I just don't care.

But I'm worried, because I wonder if this means this is all he wants from me. He's kissing me again, nice and deep and long and smooth, and I'm lying on my bed with him on top of me before I can fully realize how the hell I got there. My mind is stuck in a dim fog, and all I can see is the curve of his seiryuu against his cheek and the colors trailing down to his chest, and all I can think about is how fucking beautiful he is and how much I've wanted this.

Mika licks my earlobe. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Bullshit." A pause. "You feel weird about this."

I don't know. Yes. But I want it.

"No." I look at him, at those blue-green eyes that are echoing only mild confusion, and I have to assure him. "Just a little surprised to see all of this coming from you, but not at all disgruntled, Mikanou."

He nods, his hand meandering down to my bare chest, his fingers tracing lazy circles there. "You've never done it before and you're nervous." Mika paused, considering this, then said with a touch of self-assured finality, "S'alright. We don't have to do it tonight. But do something for me, okay?"

I nod. "What is it?"

Mika grins at me, and his free hand reaches up to grasp my right wrist. The grin fades away to a wicked, wicked look, and suddenly I have a good feeling I know where this is going. It's alright. I can take it from here.

A few moments later, Michael's gasping hard against me, his hips thrusting forward, and suddenly he stops – and he screams, lunges forward, sinks his fangs into my shoulder. His voice trails off into a muffled moan against my skin, and he's clinging to me tightly, his nails digging into my back. Blood wells and trickles down my bare shoulder, and I close my eyes and rest my chin on his head. He's trembling a little and he slumps against me, mutters something, reaches up to tug on a lock of my hair until I look at him again.

"Thank you."

I don't say anything to that; instead I just kiss him again, and for now, that's enough.

After he pulls away, he licks the blood off of my shoulder and rests his cheek against the skin there, closing his eyes. His lashes are feathery and light against my skin, and it's the oddest sensation that I get right then, this kind of protectiveness I'm not quite accustomed to yet.

And for now, that's enough.


End file.
